Thank you for the music: A few words of deeply felt appreciation from Ashok to his many supporters

These past couple of weeks have been intense. At times, almost too intense.

I can’t really complain, though, because despite the somewhat lurid picture some sections of the media portrayed of me and my film, those who have their heads screwed on straight know that all this BS, otherwise known as media hype, will pass quicker than a bad smell from a gandhi naala, while the real work will go on.

I’ve been through several of these high-hype periods in my life and career: The first was when I was 15, had self-published my first book, had my byline in several publications in India and abroad, and was interviewed on Doordarshan, All India Radio, and made a few tiny ripples of my own as a budding ‘most promising’ poet.

There have been several since, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about media hype, it’s that (a) It doesn’t last; and (b) It doesn’t matter.

Well, that’s actually two things, but hey, I was always bad at math!

:~)

But what really does matter to me, a LOT, is the sheer outpouring of personal messages received from people across the board.

Many were strangers who didn’t know me from adam, but responded to something in my words, my voice, or my interviews – even the ghastly ones that the media edited and represented to suit their own sensational publication styles.

Some were celebrities.

Others were Ramayana or Vertigo fans.

Still others were old friends, some of whom I haven’t heard from for years.

Yet others were people who played some small or large real-life role in the events I spoke about in these past few weeks.

And finally, there were those who either sought to work with me on the film, or to hire me to work for them.

(There’s been a few creeps too, like the very patronizing lady who said to me, ‘oh, you know I remember you used to write these little columns and they were so darling. I really must read your books now. Where can I borrow one?’ My short answer, through gentle gritted teeth: ‘Buy one.’)

It’s been quite a rollercoaster ride.

And it’s been great fun at times, because I think I’ve finally learned to relax and accept the media madness for what it is: a momentary lapse of reason (as Pink Floyd used to sing) that passes quicker than a cloud across the moon.

I bet you that in two months, maybe three, most people won’t even remember my name.

Ask them and they’ll say “Ashok who?”

I’m used to that.

I’ve been through that cycle a half-dozen times now, and will probably go through it a dozen more times.

It really doesn’t matter, because in the end, the only thing that counts is the body of work you build, and the people who respond to that work.

People like you.

People who read books, not just talk about them.

People who know that newspapers often have more fiction in them than the average bestselling novel.

And who don’t give a damn about the fame game and all that hi-fi jahaaz!

There are too many of you to count on the fingers of six hands, and I only have two.

But you know who you are.

You called me, messaged me, emailed me, or met me, and voiced your support, regardless of any personal gain or ulterior motive.

And I’ll always be indebted to you, even if I don’t actually take some of you up on your offers of help.

Because you showed your true colours when it mattered most: you stood up for me and said so openly, even publicly in some cases, when other people were bickering, bitching, gossipping, and otherwise doing everything possible to spread the negative energy bottled up in their busy green hearts.

And I’ll always remember that.

In particular, thanks to all of you who wrote in to me through this blog, whether for the first time or the four hundredth.

I won’t name you all, you’re already in the comments links to the postings below. Although I hope to list you all in the book version as well as the film version of Beautiful Ugly.

As for those of you who contacted me directly or otherwise: Most of whomI know would prefer not to be named, but whose offers of support, finance, expertise, or just plain hands-on help, or even just good wishes, were invaluable, not because I’m actually going to take you up on those offers (sorry, but I’m doing this the hard way, my way) but because you offered or appreciated what I was doingand that psychological and moral support was worth more than anything else in the world.

Love you all. May you find as much love and support in your most passionately desired ventures as well.